


29. Ruffles

by TheMagicWord



Category: Harry Styles - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-23 22:36:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18559282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMagicWord/pseuds/TheMagicWord
Summary: Fionn is distracted by Harry’s shirt.





	29. Ruffles

**Author's Note:**

> Rather than doing NaNoWriMo* this** year, I decided to write a 500-ish word drabble every day. Various pairings and some requests.
> 
> * Wow, did I fail on the NaNo thing, but I'm going to write 30 anyway... eventually
> 
> ** last

Fionn couldn't stop looking at Harry. He told himself to just keep his eyes trained away - to look at Jack or Barry or any of them, just not Harry - but it wasn't working. He couldn't believe Harry had come to the press conference dressed like that. He'd seen photos of Harry online - not that he'd googled... much - he knew he could be a... flamboyant dresser sometimes, but this was a press conference for a war film with a cast almost entirely made up of men. How could Harry think it was appropriate to wear a pink shirt? Not just a pink shirt, but a pink shirt with ruffles. Fionn's gaze drifted over to Harry again. It wasn't even a shirt, was it. It was a blouse. A soft pink, ruffled blouse. For fuck's sake. 

Harry caught him staring and smiled, his eyes twinkling. Dickhead. Fionn smiled back. Because as pissed off as he was at the stupid pink shirt, Harry had become a really good friend. A good friend that he couldn't stop thinking about in ways he'd literally never thought about another man. It was becoming a problem. Oh who was he kidding - it had been a problem. And one that the pink blouse was making significantly worse. 

The press conference should have started by now, someone was running late. And Fionn cursed them mentally. At least if they were working, talking, being photographed, he'd have a distraction. Something to focus on other than the thought of how soft Harry's blouse would feel in his hands. How hard Harry's body would be underneath it. He shook his head and closed his eyes, but was immediately presented with a picture of himself sliding the blouse off Harry's shoulders, dipping his head to bite at the side of Harry's neck. The sounds Harry would make when he-- 

"Fionn," Harry said in his terrible deep voice. 

Fionn shook his head. No. 

"I haven't even asked you anything yet!" His huge hands, a ring on every finger, curled around the water bottle in front of him on the table and Fionn unscrewed the cap of his own water bottle and thought about pouring the contents over his own head. 

Fionn sighed. They'd already done enough interviews together that Fionn knew Harry liked to wind him up, tease him, make him blush. He'd thought too much about winding Harry up, teasing him, making him blush outside of an interview situation. He'd thought about asking someone - he wasn't sure who - to stop pairing them up, but everyone else seemed to enjoy their interviews. And if he was honest, Fionn did too. They were just... a lot. 

"What?" he asked Harry finally. 

"I was just going to say I like your shirt," Harry said. 

Fionn opened his mouth and then snapped it closed again. He was going to have to tell his agent he was never going to work with Harry Styles again. 

"I like yours too," he said, before he thought better of it. 

Harry glanced down at himself. At the birds on his chest peeking out from between the fucking ruffles. Then he looked back at Fionn. And smirked.


End file.
